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fhe Green Lama 

them suffer. You fired Sam Reno two years 
ago to set him up business, and have been 
taking your cut of his blackmail money 
ever since. You even planned his murder, 
in case he got troublesome; reporting that 
you'd lost the gun was part of that. Of 
course you didn't lose it. And when I told 
you this morning that I meant to get to 
the bottom of things, you decided that 
Reno had to die now. You left the gun, ex- 
pecting that the cops would pin it on 
somebody who'd been at the Sportsmen's 

Vanvelt listened to all this quietly. 
When Flint was through he said, "Very 
ingenious reasoning. Poor reporting, though. 
How do you expect to prove such a fan- 

"From the numbers on those bills," 
Flint said. "It happens that Reno kept a 
record. Maddix, suppose you search him." 

Maddix stepped' forward willingly, smirk- 
ing at his assignment. Vanvelt stiffened; 
from his pocket came an explosion that 
dwarfed the drilling next door; Maddix 
looked at him in horror, clutched his hands 
to his belly, and crumpled to the floor. 

Vanvelt backed to the door, reached behind 
him for the knob, and snapped, "Nextl 
I'm going through here, and the first man 
to budge gets the same. And that goes for 
anybody in the hall." 

Ruth was out there. Flint closed his hand 
over the first thing he could find — the 
telephone. The wire wasn't long. It 
wouldn't go far. He flung it out and down, 
toward Vanvelt's feet, and went straight 
at the man. Vanvelt's gun exploded a sec- 
ond time, but the telephone had confused 
him. The shot caught Flint's ankle. He 
never knew ''it until afterward — after he 
had pinned Vanvelt against the door, and 
taken the gun away, and turned him over 
to Prothero. 

Then he sat down on the floor, and that 
was the way Ruth found him. She knelt 
beside him, looking anxious; but he 
grinned back and took her chin in his hand. 
"Honey," he said, "I'm out of a job and 
I want to get married. Can't put it off any 
longer. Look what happened when I put off 
kissing you this afternoon. It was terriblel 
Never put off kissing ..." 

They fixed that. 

Your Name Is Gold 

by Fredric Brown 

Continued from High Adventure #74 

the billfold itself, in letters of gold. 

"You can throw that Reynolds one away," 
he told her "That's the one I want to buy. The 

Her level gaze was curious, but showed less 
surprise than he had anticipated. 

"But," she protested, "that one isn't on sale." 

"It's going to be on sale," said Dale, "if 1 have 
to buy out the store's whole stock of billfolds to 
get the sample. That one means something to me. 
My name in gold, just as it says on the card." 

She picked up the display card and detached 

the sample from it. 

"Well, if you want it that badly, 1 can use the 
one you ordered and don't want for a sample. But 
1 don't understand." 

His eyes caught hers and held them. 

"I'd like you to understand," he breathed. "Will 
you— will you have dinner with me tonight?" 

It was a long moment before she answered. 
Her eyes seemed to look through his and behind 
them, and to like what she saw. Even before she 
answered. Dale knew she was going to say yes. 

The Grim Shadow of Hate 


When I tell you, cover your faces and hold your 

"But that was your famous badge. Phantom!" 
protested Billy Rice. 

"Platinum is considerably cheaper than life," 
Van said, without humor "Now lie down. . . . Here 
it comes!" 

There was a bright flare, a little hissing, then it 
seemed as if the whole room had been shattered. 
The thick metal trough took the solid impact of the 
hard driven air, and metal and plaster cracked. 

Van could not hear the others speaking, if they 
did. The ears of all were completely deafened 
for the moment. The explosion gave them quick 
respite, however, for the force of the blast had 
blown out nearly half of the chemical blaze. 

Then Van saw the yawning hole in the cement 
wall. He took Mademoiselle Corre in his arms. 
Billy Rice was carrying Thelma Evans. A six-foot 
tunnel opened before them. 

Some fire was drawn into this new opening, but 
Van reached stairs that led upward, before the heat 
became unendurable. There was a flat door over his 
head at the top of the stairs. 

Van hammered at it with the butt of his gun. 
There was no response. He found a lock, put the 
muzzle against it and pulled the trigger. The door 
slapped open. 

There was a strange exit. Clothes hung on racks 
and there was another door with a light beyond it. 
The tunnel had opened into a clothes closet. Putting 
Mademoiselle Corre to one side, the Phantom 
found the closet door unlocked. He snapped it open 
abruptly, gun in his hand. 

The room beyond was empty. One table lamb 
was burning. One quick glance at the clothing in the 
closet, and articles in the room, and Van knew they 
were in Dean Doremus' room. 

Billy Rice was muttering low oaths. 

His condemnation of the dean was bitter But he 
had one thought. 

"What proof have we, though, that Dean 
Doremus had anything to do with the murders?" he 

Outside the college grounds. Inspector Thomas 
Gregg had been waiting for the Phantom's 
signal, calling him into the campus. A rumbling 
underground blast made Gregg forget all about the 

signal. Other cars were arriving, two coming at high 

State police, keeping an eye on the ill-fated 
school, came roaring along as the muffled explosion 
spelled out more trouble. Frank Havens and Muriel 
Havens were in one of the speeding cars, coming 
from New York. Steve Huston was in another car, 
breaking the laws. 

SO THE Phantom, now a much disheveled 
"Jason Jones," and his rescued companions, 
walked into a reception in Dean Doremus' office. 
Dean Doremus was slumped in his big chair Mrs. 
Jennings was fuming, complaining that any more 
excitement would be the death of the fluttery little 
old man. 

Just to clear the record for all present, including 
state police. Van announced: 

"I seem to be Jason Jones. I am the Phantom. 
Jason Jones is dead. He was killed to prevent him 
becoming the new executor of Brookvard College 
and manager of the considerable fortune willed to 
the school by Harvey Rice." 

Dean Doremus grabbed at his left side, gasping, 
staring at the Phantom. 

"You're lying!" he screeched in his high voice. 
"You tricked me, so you could kill me with a shock! 
They tried to murder Mrs. Jennings, too!" 

"Dean Doremus," the Phantom interrupted 
coldly, "you saved Harvey Rice's life by a blood 
transfusion some twenty years ago, so he, founded 
this big college for you?" 

"Yes— yes, I did save his life then," said the 
dean. "But—" 

At this moment, the bony face of Professor 
Arlow showed up. He came into the room almost 
furtively. Mademoiselle Corre ran to him, with a 
little cry of emotion. 

Arlow pushed her from him almost roughly. 
He had a book in his hand, evidently a ledger, 
one he had said he had left in his office. It seemed 
convenient indeed, for Arlow, that he had missed 
being in the underground lab when the fire-bomb 
book had exploded. 

Arlow was staring at the Phantom as he brought 
up the subject of the transfusion given Harvey Rice 
years before by Dean Doremus, saving the shipping 
magnate's life. Arlow looked as if he wished he had 
not come in. 

Mademoiselle Corre glanced at the Phantom, 
then talked rapidly to Arlow in such a low tone that 
those., nearest them could not hear her words. Van 
disregarded all of this. He went on. 

From Issue #74 - The Phantom Detective 

"For several months, Dean Doremus, cheap 
chemicals have been substituted for the high- 
priced chemicals which show on your books," he 
said inexorably. "And a war gas company lad been 
getting thousands of dollars' worth of the good 
chemicals, shown on your books as coming to the 

DEAN DOREMUS seemed to forget his 
heart. He reared to his feet. 

"Another lie. Phantom!" he" squealed. "Where 
are the books? I'll make you prove that!" 

"Unfortunately the books have been destroyed 
in the fire that was meant to erase Mademoiselle 
Corre, Thelma Evans, Billy Rice, Professor Arlow 
and myself, but by good luck Mademoiselle Corre 
and Professor Arlow remain alive to testify about the 

The dean pulled at his wing collar, as though it 
was another kind of collar that was choking him. 

"Mademoiselle Corre and Arlow are both thieves 
and liars!" he got out. 

Professor Arlow poked his bony face above other 
heads in the room. He was holding Mademoiselle 
Corre's hand. Inspector Gregg moved where he 
might intercept him if he made a break. 

"It seems. Dean," went on Van, "that you have 
always worn wing collars. Then how about that 
permanent If line about your throat which shows 
you must have worn tight, round collars for years?" 
I Dean Doremus kept his hand down, but his head 
twisted, as if he could feel a modem collar choking 

"That started me on the blood trail. Dean 
Doremus," Van said tightly. 

"The blood trail? You're crazy. Phantom. I don't 
know what you're talking about!" 

"Steve Huston will tell you. Dean." 

The red-headed reporter stepped forward with 
three cards in his hand. 

"I have here the record of Harvey Rice's and 
Dean Doremus' blood types, taken at the hospital 
twenty years ago," he said. "The Phantom has given 
me a record of the blood type of Professor Howard 
who was murdered, but whose body never was 

Dean Doremus appeared to be frozen on his 

"And you are of the same size and weight as 
was Dean Doremus, and a finished actor besides. 
Professor Howard," Van accused. "But blood types 
never change and never lie. Years ago, you were 

known as Howard Hart, owner of the Crown Circus. 

There was trouble which linked Harvey Rice up 
with the circus—" 

"The blood! I forgot the blood!" 


DEAN DOREMUS' words, or more 
correctly the words of Professor Howard, alias 
Howard Hart, were hoarse squawks. But he was 
quick. His hand darted under his frock coat. 
The Phantom appeared slow to move. A wicked 
automatic in the hand of the bogus dean was waved 
at those nearest him, and he backed toward the 
window and its fire-escape. Inspector Gregg swore, 
and state policemen held off, seeing the desperation 
in the dean's eyes. Dean Doremus had his back to 
the open window when he reached it. 

The dean's gun flamed twice. The bullets went 
into the ceiling. A quick, thin hand had fastened on 
his wrist, coming over his shoulder from outside the 

Chip Dorian's face appeared. "Hold it. Mister!" 
he snapped. 

The dean attempted to whirl. Chip's hand 
twisted and the dean went to Jus knees, groaning. 
Then Mrs. Alford Jennings intervened. 

"Stop it!" she cried. "I've known Dean Doremus 
too long to believe any of that! The Phantom hasn't 
any evidence in the record of blood types! It's all a 

The Phantom turned slowly toward Mrs. 

"You did your best, out of sympathy, Mrs. 
Jennings, to try and make yourself believe this 
Dean Doremus was real. I happen to know that you 
suspected him, but you had occasion recently when 
the dean met with a small accident to acquire some 

stains.. These you checked with the old records 
at the hospital." 

"Yes, I did. Phantom, and what of it?" flared 
Mrs. Jennings. "I discovered that the Harvey 
Rice and Dean Doremus records show that Dean 
Doremus here has the same type of blood." 

Dean Doremus was swallowing hard. Chip 
Dorian was holding him firmly. 

"It is regretted that Dean Doremus had a gun 
so handy, and that his character underwent such 
an abrupt change, Mrs. Jennings," the Phantom 
said quietly. "He has virtually convicted himself 
by that bad break, because you never mentioned 

The Grim Shadow of Hate 

your vague suspicion, and he himself naturally 
concluded the game was up, because he believed 
that his blood did not match that of Harvey Rice and 
the real Dean Doremus. But it did!" 

Inspector Gregg was scowling heavily. He 
called Van to one side. 

"All of this is outside of my jurisdiction," he 
said. "But mere resistance after an accusation, right 
or wrong, will never convict the man in court." 

The Phantom smiled a little. He produced a 
folded circus poster, so old the paper threatened 
to fall apart. It had been neatly pasted together on 

"I have here a poster, supposed to represent the 
owner and a troupe of performers of the Crown 
Circus thirty years ago," he pointed out. "You 
will note that the one designated as Howard Hart, 
the owner, is dressed in a ringmaster's costume. 
Observe the size of the figure, its posture, and 
forget the mustache. Then note that Howard Hart 
is standing with his left hand firmly pressed to 
his left side. Evidently he has suffered from acute 
indigestion for many years. He has the deep bass 
voice of the ringmaster also— when he wants to use 
it, as he did in his role of the Doctor. In fact, he has 
considerable ability as a voice mimic, as witness 
how he has been able to imitate the voice of his 
poor victim, the real Dean Doremus. 

"Still, even if he hadn't followed the pattern of 
some of the shrewdest criminals, and retained the 
Howard part of his name, he can be proved to be the 
same man by the French Surete method of bone and 
body measurement." 

FOR all of her horsiness and sophistication, 
Mrs. Alford Jennings was as soft-hearted as 
they came, ready to take up the cudgels for one 

"Dean Doremus!" she murmured. "Why, then, 
you mean he was sitting in the Garden show, 
expecting to see me poisoned on Topnotch? But, 
Phantom, that knife— Tony Marino tried to kill the 
dean, too." 

"I doubt that," Van said dryly. "For a trained 
acrobat, with an eye for timing and distance, Tony 
Marino made a woefully ineffective attack upon 
the dean, or the 'Doctor' He knocked him down 
and the blade only slit the shoulder of his coat. 
Doubtless, Tony Marino expected to be sprung 
from jail quickly, even if he had been charged with 
felonious assault. 

"It was a neatly framed cover-up for the Doctor, 

who actually believed me to be Jason Jones. He 
must have doubted that, though, when I employed a 
smoke bomb to prevent your horse carrying you in 
line with Mrs. Loren Hart and her ready knife." 

Mrs. Jennings did not reply. A tear coursed 
down one wind-browned cheek. 

"You see," went on the Phantom, 

"I judged that Karl Hart, or Charles Turner, the 
lawyer, as you knew him, reported to the Doctor 
that he had pushed Jason Jones from a window. 

But the police had made no report of finding 
a body, so when I showed up as Jason Jones, the 
Doctor and 

Charles Turner were much confused. 

"Mrs. Loren Hart-also knew of this, and she 
tried to make sure that Jason Jones died— but 
she missed. She did not want Jones to live, for 
Jones had been named by Harvey Rice to become 
executive administrator of Brookvard College— not 
because he suspected this bogus Dean Doremus, 
but because he thought that the financial burden 
was too much for his old friend at his age." 

"Great Glory, Phantom!" ejaculated Inspector 
Gregg. "That is a complicated set-up." 

"There is still more," said Van. "For years this 
Howard Hart, who became Professor Howard, had 
been following the fortunes of Harvey Rice. He 
nursed revenge in his heart because Harvey Rice 
once had stopped his show through an animal 
accident on shipboard. 

"When the circus business petered out, the 
Harts— Mrs. Loren Hart, Olivia and Karl Hart, and 
the uncle, Howard Hart— went into a smalltime 
murder racket in Chicago and later in New Orleans. 
Some of their old circus performers, out of the show 
business, became members of their killer mob. 

"They operated almost the same as the killers 
known as Murder, Incorporated, in Brooklyn, killing 
for small fees. But they got away with it, accumulated 
some money, and became ambitious to become big- 
time murderers, extortionists, or whatever their 
ruthless business made them." 

"Yes." Inspector Gregg nodded. "We have Tony 
and Kiel Marino, and several others, including that 
chestnut vendor who was used as a red herring at the 
time Jimmy Rice was murdered." 

"So Howard Hart and his murder family came 
East more than a year ago, Howard Hart had learned 
that Harvey Rice was worth some forty millions. 
He saw the means of grasping a huge fortune there, 
and at the time, evidently believed it would be the 
stepping stone toward a nation-wide, unusual racket 

From Issue #74 - The Phantom Detective 

by having a big college under his direction. 

"Howard Hart probably had teaching credentials, 
faked or otherwise, so as Professor Howard he was 
employed by the real Dean Doremus. He studied 
Dean Doremus' habits, learned the routine of his 
office, then removed him. Wherefore, the disposal of 
the dean's body as that of Professor Howard." 

THERE were concerted gasps— at that an- 

"It was unfortunate for Howard— or Hart— that 
Dean Doremus wore wing collars," the Phantom 
went on, "because they showed the line that had been 
on Hart's neck for years, even through his make-up. 

"Then Howard Hart was compelled to act 
quickly after he learned that Harvey Rice intended 
to write a new will making Jason Jones responsible 
for the finances. The old will split the Rice fortune 
four ways— one-fourth to the college, the remainder 
divided equally between his twin grandsons and 
Thelma Evans. 

"But in event of the death of either of these, their 
inheritance also went to the college. So Hart was out 
to make a clean sweep of the entire forty millions. 
Also, it was the plan of the Hart death family to work 
through control of the big college on higher class 
killings, extortion and other profitable ventures. 

"The Hart murder family was simply moving 
from the lower criminal brackets into upper brackets 
as big-time killers. 

"But the inevitable happened. Uncle Howard 
Hart had forty millions and control of the college in 
sight, and it was too much for him. By removing the 
others of his own family, he would be left with the 
millions and the college for himself. He had made 
a good start by putting Olivia and Karl out of the 

"But the will. Phantom?" said Mrs. Jennings. 
"Dean Doremus had the old will, and none of us ever 
saw a new will." 

"Harvey Rice never wrote a new will," stated 
Van. "But he talked it into a dictaphone. He signed 
it with fingerprints in red ink inside the cylinder, 
making it as good as a written document and— he 
believed— more indestructible. In which he was, of 
course, mistaken. 

"Billy Rice was told by his dying grandfather 
to gain possession of the new will, then in his wall 
safe, at once. Jason Jones followed Billy closely, 
interested in his welfare. Billy knew of the wax 
record, knew it was in the safe. He got the will and 
passed it to Jason Jones for safekeeping as he heard 

prowlers around the house. 

"Charles Turner, or Karl Hart, was one of the 
prowlers. He killed the Rice valet with a poisoned 
feather. The safe was blown when the will was not 
discovered elsewhere, but that was a blind. The 
killers knew Billy had managed to secrete the new 
will somehow. He was tortured, but he kept his 

"Jason Jones was in another part of the house 
when Billy Rice was seized. When Jones went home, 
he put the wax record on a table. Charles Turner 
strangled him and pushed him from a window, never 
having the faintest idea that the will, in Harvey 
Rice's own voice was on a table in the library, right 
at his hand. 

"By that will, Harvey Rice appointed Jason Jones 
administrator of the financial affairs of Brookvard 
College, with Dean Doremus to be freed of this 
executive burden because of his apparent infirmity 
and age." 

Dean Doremus' head was bent and he made no 
reply. He had come close, very close to an immense 
fortune, but the cards played by the Phantom were 
all tmmps. 

MURIEL HAVENS stood beside the 
Phantom, smiling. Thelma Evans was sobbing in 
Billy Rice's arms. Professor Arlow looked at lovely 
Mademoiselle Corre, his bony face lighting up. 

"Lucky you don't do anything halfway. 
Phantom," Arlow said. "You knew that I also 
followed Billy Rice when he went after the will, and 
that I ran away to keep from tangling with the police 
before Aimee and I could make certain of Dean 
Doremus' crooked books." 

The Phantom nodded. "The chemical substitution 
provided money when the murder family from New 
Orleans ran short," he said. "It kept Mrs. Loren Hart 
in her society spot, and maintained Olivia Hart on 
Fifth Avenue." 

Muriel Havens smiled at the Phantom. Her hair 
was concealed under the tight turban she had worn at 
the Horse Show. 

"I'll be ready for another case when my hair 
grows out. Phantom," she said eagerly. "It won't 
take long." 

The Phantom grinned at her Then he was deadly 

"In that case, I will see to it that you are kept well 
supplied with the best hair remover I know," he said. 
"I'm certain my own hair has turned gray under my 
make-up— and you're responsible, young lady!"